Precise Elegance
by Alex Damien
Summary: PruAus. They love how each other gets dressed. Slice of Life.
1. Chapter 1

Prussia entered Austria's room without warning.

"Hey Princess, you're going to want pancakes too or what?" He asked.

Austria stood in front of the long mirror at the other side of the room, an expression of deep disgust in his face. Over the bed laid a pristine white shirt and his usual coat.

"Prussia, I have told you many times to not barge into my room like that," he said. He held against the light a couple of white cravats that looked the same to Prussia.

Oh, he knew one had a different thread count that made it show a slightly neater effect, and that the other was italian made and though it had a slightly lower thread count, it made up for that in the rich, velvety feeling it had.

But in the end, Austria was going to stay in the house all day, so they were both the same in that it all came down to personal preference.

"You weren't responding when I called from the kitchen."

"I won't deign to answer you when you shout across the house like a fool," said Austria. He picked up the shirt and held it against the cravats.

"I like the white one," said Prussia with a smirk. Austria looked down at him so bad, a lesser man would have cowered. But Prussia just sauntered to the bed and fell down on it.

"Stop messing my bed! I'll eat whatever you make, so go away already!"

Prussia smiled up like a cat at Austria, who huffed and did his best to ignore him. He decided on the italian one and left the other back in its place. Prussia smirked and rolled on to stomach. He knew every single one of Austria's cravats by sight and feel.

And sometimes, when he kissed Austria's neck and paused his lips over the sensitive skin, he knew them by the lingering scent of cotton and silk.

Austria put on the shirt and unfolded the cravat with practiced movements. He was still doing his best to ignore Prussia, so he wasn't paying full attention to what he was doing, but his body knew every movement required.

Prussia kept his eyes on the soft, long fingers moving the cloth. Bits of skin vanishing, and reappearing among a sea of white softness.

A twist, and then a second knot to ensure that it would not shift from place; because underneath the ostentatious exterior, Austria was still a descendant of Germania and the firmness of character waiting in the shadows of his eyes manifested itself in those small details.

Austria fixed his collar and glared at Prussia.

"You are ruining my coat," he said, and leaned down to grab it from the bed where Prussia's weight was wrinkling it.

The cravat shifted and moved as if calling attention to the soft skin it concealed.

Prussia smirked, and grabbed it.

"This," he whispered, trying to keep the overwhelming lust burning in him from showing through his voice. "This is the one I liked."


	2. Chapter 2

Prussia came back home late in the afternoon, and passed by Austria in the living room.

"I picked up your dry clean little master. Take it or I'll throw it in your bed," he said, and gave Austria his jacket and coat. He kept a steel gray suit that Austria didn't remember. It looked too small to be Germany's.

"Whose suit is that?"

"It's mine. I'm going out with Spain to the opening of some new club France has now" said Prussia, walking towards his room. Austria followed. "He said that it was a fancy thing, and to wear a nice suit so Spain gave me this one. I had to get it tailored a little and now I'm late. Fucking great."

Prussia entered his room and hung the suit from a hanger near the mirror next to a freshly ironed white shirt. He took off his t shirt in one swift motion and threw it to the dirty clothes bin at the corner of the room.

Austria's eyes took in the sight of his ripped back. Prussia had grown thinner with the years, but his body was still strong and it showed in the definition of the muscles of his arms and back when he moved to take off his pants and reveal blue boxers with tiny yellow birds printed in them.

Austria laughed so hard, he bent, clutching his stomach. He didn't even care he was wrinkling his coats.

"What the hell?! I thought you were here for a show and you laugh at me!" Said Prussia. He threw his pants to the bin and huffed. "Go away if you're just going to laugh at my clothes!"

Austria wheezed. "Sorry, sorry. I just... Where did you get those?"

"These," he pointed to his ass. "Are my new favorite pair of underwear. Spain got them for me as soon as he saw them."

"Spain seems to get you all your clothes lately."

"We have similar tastes, and bodies."

"Mhm..."

"Now go away. I told you I'm late, and I hate that"

Prussia grabbed the shirt and pulled it out of the hanger firmly, putting it on in a way that minimized wrinkles. Looking straight at the mirror he buttoned it down, and was done in twenty seconds sharp.

He grabbed a pair of square silver cuff links from the dresser and put them on, taking care that the matte stripes on them mirrored each other.

Fifteen seconds more.

He put on the pants and the shoes. Everything perfectly pressed and lined. Austria was sure Prussia had supervised that any alterations to the suit had been done to milimetrical precision.

The tie came on next. A darker gray, almost black.

Prussia's hardened fingers twisted and pulled the cloth, too harshly despite their precise movements. But those hands had been made to hold a sword, and they would always remember that, despite how many centuries passed by.

Prussia grabbed a simple silver tie bar from the dresser and put it on. He gave Austria a sharp smile and put on the jacket.

"You're not the only one who can be refined, little master," he said, and buttoned two of the three buttons. Austria looked him up and down. He was the very image of clean cut refinement, but the tone of the suit made his complexion look sickly pale, and that along with his silver hair made him look washed out.

Austria sighed and took out a black handkerchief from his pocket. Walking towards Prussia, he folded it carefully in front of him. He put it in the breast pocket so that only a thin black line showed.

"You and Spain have the same awful taste, I'll give you that."

Prussia huffed. "Whatever," he passed his fingers through his hair until it suited his taste and stuck his tongue at Austria. "See ya, princess," he said, and left.

Austria lingered in the doorway of Prussia's room for a moment, replaying every single movement of the clothes over Prussia's body.

That very evening he bought Prussia a dark blue suit.


End file.
